


Home One

by Isaac2Pace (Misty_Endings), Misty_Endings



Series: New Beginnings [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: KnightPilot Exchange, M/M, Smuggler AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 09:20:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6848680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misty_Endings/pseuds/Isaac2Pace, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misty_Endings/pseuds/Misty_Endings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt:  Poe Dameron is the best pilot in the galaxy, gone rogue from flying missions for an intergalactic government he didn't support. Ben Solo is a Jedi Knight, on the run for crimes he committed during a terrible period of his life that he is honestly still recovering from. Together with BB-8, Poe's dependable astromech droid, they are two broke guys in space taking freelance bounty hunting or smuggling jobs and having adventures and trying not to get arrested or killed by a wide variety of lifeforms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Meteor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meteor/gifts).



The old Mu-class shuttle had weaved, dodged and outrun for the last time, the engines sputtering to a complete stop in the black abyss of space. They were blackened by the laser bolt that struck it and no amount of ingenuity would get them bypassed to the emergency power systems in time. Even if the pilot could fire back to buy him minutes to do so – an impossibility in its current state – it would be foolish to provoke the ship into further confrontation with the imbalance of firepower between them. From the viewport he saw the the assaulting ship zoom past him, the light from its curved sublight engines blazing a brilliant blue before swirling and rolling back in a large arc to where its barely mobile prey halted. The pilot shook his head. He should be scared and frightened, and he was a little given the situation, but more so it just added irritation to his already foul mood. _Such a ship could turn and maneuver with a tighter and more fluid grace,_ Poe Dameron thought. _The dumbass behind the controls is doing her a disservice._

It barreled down slowly over the shuttle and as it passed it allowed a closer view of its undercarriage from its tucked landing gear and ramps to the lower turret and missiles. The hull had signs of neglect: scratched, scorched and filthy. A scowl crossed the pilot’s face. She deserved so much better. It was a YT-2900 freighter. Far and beyond everything of his shuttle it was: in size; in speed; certainly in weaponry. The YT-lines were a favorite among tradesmen and smugglers alike. While not top of the line, it was a beauty from the arc of its hull to the line of its engine. In precise hands it could outmaneuver and outrun even some of the high grade cruisers used by the Republic and First Order. Plenty of cargo holds, a galley and a decent set of cabins and living quarters: all that was needed to live fairly comfortable in space until the next destination. Not that he had ever actually seen, touched or experienced any of the above. Never had he made it further than a few feet from the outside of this particular ship. It didn’t matter. Whether he actually piloted them or simply studied the specs and manuals for the passion of it, there were few ships in existence that he didn’t know or couldn’t sit behind the controls and maneuver as if it were always his.

Between his late ace-of-a-pilot mother and years of military services, Poe had driven and flown skiffs, swoops, speeders, fighters and starships of all sorts, and he loved them all, treating them with respect and thanking them whenever he had to push them to beyond their max just like he had with any member of his squadron when he had been a Commander in the Republic and Resistance. This shuttle was no exception. In comparison she wasn’t really anything to look at, a dented and carbon scoring relic long before he had ever boarded her a couple months ago. The inside was as lackluster as the out with only the controls, comms and dashes in the cockpit, and in the next section a cargo hold that felt more like a storage closet, tiny refresher and a small collection of clothing, weaponry and provisions boxed into containers near the boarding ramp. But what really mattered was she had good bones and working engines, shields and converters. She had cost Poe a great deal when he purchased the shuttle and necessary parts from an impound lot, needing a ship without a registration and a hyperdrive to go to Lightspeed without a hitch. She may be small and ugly, but he used his skills and experience to maintenance and service her, and in return she served him well when he needed it most. Over these last few months they had flown from one Rim of the galaxy to the other. She had been there for him... No, she and her cramped quarters had been there for them, but as Poe had said to his lover Ben Solo and their droid BB-8, the ship was only ever meant to be a means to an end.

There was a story there: The Best Pilot in the Resistance now an ex-soldier turned smuggler accompanied by a Force-wielding former Knight of Ren and a Republic issued astromech neither was supposed to keep yet was determined to follow them. Ben had casted off the shackles of the Supreme Leader that had seek to permanently strip him of everything that was Ben Solo until nothing was left but Kylo Ren, a living weapon for the First Order. Seeking to atone for the crimes he committed, Ben returned to his family, joining The Resistance and using his knowledge of the enemy and his use of The Force. This in turn returned him to Commander Dameron’s life. During the missions they served together, the once childhood friends turned enemies of war turned comrades eventually found forgiveness and their former selves in each other. As time passed and their orbits repeatedly crossed on base and in assignments, their love rekindled and they became inseparable. Then the day came when The Republic decided The Resistance was no longer necessary and despite all the good Ben had done, he had served his use in their eyes and now they wanted him as nothing more than to be an example against their enemies. Poe had joined the Resistance when The Republic would not take action directly against the First Order. Now The Republic wouldn’t listen to him about Ben. He couldn’t return to their army. They couldn’t stop him from resigning, but he knew they could mark him for a slew of crimes if he intervened in anyway.

Poe’s mother once said to him that she and his father could not sit by and do nothing when people were hurting and suffering, and that was why they joined the military. It was a statement that rung with Poe who wanted to fight for a more peaceful future, so he had, but where was the end to Ben’s hurt and suffering? Where was the peaceful future if Ben was not in it? The choice was simple. They had enough years – decades! – of tyrants, generals and Supreme Leaders saying one slip up, one question or conflicting viewpoint brought all the loyalty that came before it into question. They had enough of being ordered, dictated, manipulated and torn apart from each other because of governments and factions with visions of a “better Galaxy” at the expense of lives; at the expense of themselves. Parts of those lives would continue to follow them, both in their minds and by those seeking to bring them back into the fold or a cell (or to be terminated). They were not deluded to think otherwise and they knew the risks the night the three escaped from the Resistance base where Ben was detained to parts unknown. Threat of rejection, dishonor, imprisonment and death be damned! They ran as far as they could on what little they had and Poe was determined to get them further still. Neither had imagined they would end up as smugglers, but they defined things on their terms. Everything about their lives was of their own choosing. They were not going to be torn apart again, not without a fight anyway. There was so much more to detail, but that story was not on Poe’s mind right now.

It was the violent jerk that shook the shuttle before it settled once more; the dull noise from the rear, growing slightly louder and louder with each second; the vibration that rattled through the floor and up into the chair where he sat; the smell of burning circuits coming through the environmental systems; the co-pilot chair beside him occupied by a durasteel case instead of by its owner.

They were about to be boarded.

That was fine by him. Poe wanted them to enter.

The shades and textures of his clothes reflected his mood: dark and worn. The leather of his jacket creaked as he leaned further back into his seat, rubbing a hand over the visible stubble of his cheeks. He glanced down to his hip. His blaster was in his holster. He wasn’t going to get out of this chair. Where was there to go if he did? He just swiveled to face the rear and waited.

His white-and-orange astromech droid disengaged its utility arm from the console before it disappeared back inside its spherical body and rolled across the metal flooring, wobbling to a stop. It nudged against his left boot, its domed head drooping slightly as he emitted a worried string of bleeps in Binary.

“I know Buddy,” he said, reaching over him to the co-pilot chair and releasing the restraints over the case. The moment he grabbed and lifted the handle the shuttle shook again and suddenly a shrill erupted from the contents inside, brief but loud enough to make BB-8 remind him to be careful. Poe nodded and gently set the object by his other foot.

Veru Sweetsongs: Tiny, maggot sized worms that when en mass emitted a noise that did not live up to their namesake. It wasn’t a melodious song, but a nightmarish shriek. They were extremely rare. Both the male and female of the species produced one of the finest silks in the galaxy, yet the males also secreted a poison so dangerous a single touch of it could dissolve the flesh from an entire hand, meaning the silk had to throughly cleaned before of any safe use. The gender could only be told by trained cultivators or one was stupidly willing to touch one. Poe had been hired by a Theelin smuggling matchmaker of sorts named Naruu to obtain some for her clients when the Vereen blocked off their access to the trade route. Those outside were none of them and they would do anything to get his cargo and the information as to how he did it.

“You took care of your end?” he asked the droid, receiving an affirmative in response followed by a stringed series of beeps in question. “Yes, I’m absolutely sure about this... _Not that I have much of an alternative_.”

The rear door in the distance started to quake as the intruders on the other side worked to pry it open. Poe looked down at the black cyclopean eye focusing up at him. “You still sure you’re not regretting coming with me?”

The droid’s head spinned toward the door as a sliver of light cracked down its center and movement appeared behind. Then just as quickly it whipped back to look at him.

The Binary that follows translated to _**I go wherever Master Poe goes**_.

It must be strange for a droid to be so devoted to a person or for that person to feel so emotionally tied to a droid. However, to Poe, BB-8 will always be more than servos and mechanisms. They had faced danger and possible death together for years in combat, and now the droid continued to stay loyal even in his new, still dangerous and sometimes questionable profession. He patted the droid on his head affectionately before punching a fist on the nearby controls for the door release.

The sudden parting caused the dark figure in front to trip and stumble forward to the floor with a heavy _oomph_!

Poe took some pleasure in that. “I heard you knocking so I thought I get the door.”

The second intruder armored a flaming red entered, uncaringly stepping over his partner with a long stride. Poe couldn’t identify the enforcers to any clan or guild, clad head-to-toe in mixed painted gear of all sorts: Stormtrooper; Kaleesh; Ubese, maybe Mandalore. They could be human like him or one of the countless species of humanoid or alien life throughout the galaxy. Either their boss didn’t want others knowing his affiliations or, the more likely of reasons, he hired thugs and clad them up in scrap because he was too scared (or cheap) to hire professionals.

Only thing Poe did know was Black collected himself from the floor and snooped and flung open compartments, sporting a double barrel blasters so heavy that the overcompensating weapons needed to be carried two-handed. Meanwhile Red – defined and apparently much less intimidated by Poe’s presence as he reached for neither of his weapons strapped to his utility belt – left his gun happy companion behind in his bravado in order to step into the pilot’s personal space. Poe craned his head to look up at the towering enforcer. The helmet was Ubese but he was much too tall to be of the species.

“Hello, Sweetheart,” Red greeted.

That raised the pilot’s eyebrow, not the greeting he expected from the garbled modulator. “ _Sweetheart_?”

“No one else is onboard,” interrupted Black to his partner.

Red doesn’t acknowledge the info. The face was covered, yet Poe can still feel the eyes behind it wandering over his body. He doesn’t flinch under the scrutiny. Instead Poe holds out his arms, inviting Red to bend down from his heights and inspect closer if he likes the view so much. The gloved hand of the guard twitched out like he will search him, but then it briefly hung there before it pulled back and grabbed for a comm clipped to his belt. “It’s Dameron. Just has his droid, a blaster and a case on him.”

The pause on the other line is brief but clear and free of disguise. “I’m coming in.”

Black stormed into the main cockpit the moment the line died. BB-8’s servo twitched, but Poe put out his hand as he continued to stare up at his red watcher.

“You didn’t even search him!” chastised Black. “How do you know he doesn’t have something else on him?”

“I just know,” answered Red with a level of assurance that could be taken just this side of obnoxious if he wasn’t absolutely right.

“What if that’s not the package?” Black spatted.

“You wanna have a look?” Poe inquired, throwing a foot on top of the case. Agitated hissing erupted, causing Black’s heavy boots to shuffle back, clutching tightly at his hand cannon. BB-8 remained silent, but Poe was sure the droid would chide him if this were anyone else but their present company. On the other hand, it warranted an amused huff from Red.

Poe could swear he heard a click of Black’s tongue. Not that it mattered. The “Assholes, the both of you” that followed came out pretty clear as he yanked the blaster from Poe’s holster, flinging it behind him far from Poe’s reach before immediately backing up again.

“Ah! The sweet sound of Veru Songworms!” exclaimed the last man to stride into the ship. “Well I guess there’s no question about if you truly have them? Hello Dameron.”

“Shekaj,” he greeted with less enthusiasm as the man approached. Seeing his face made his blood boil.

No armor for this one. The YT’s owner was a Socorran human named Shekaj. He was a Privateer for the Republic with a letter of marque that granted him permission to seize shipments, but once Poe had entered the smuggling trade he learned that the man was involved in plenty of side operations and crossed paths in their dealings with Naruu. They were far from any Republic sector and the rest of his team of ships were nowhere in sight, which meant the Socorran had left them behind and was on personal business. Bald as a Bith, heavy browed and a nose crooked from being on the receiving end of one too many punches during a cantina brawl, which Poe would love to add to if it meant wiping that grin off his face (and maybe a few of those crooked teeth while he was at it). Black and Red moved to flank him, deflating any image of him taking the chance.

“You.” Shekaj waved a hand at Red. “Get the case and make sure the goods aren’t tampered.”

Red moved to obey, but Poe’s foot was still on the case, keeping it close which resulted in another stare down. His need to resist was always great, but Poe wasn’t blind either. He was very aware he was outnumbered, outgunned and BB-8 was far from a battle droid. A better moment needed to present itself first, so for now he acquiesced and slowly the booted foot pushed the case toward the enforcer and moved off.

Click of clasps and a slow raise of the lid and a gloved hand slipped inside. Carefully Red pulled out a vial as long as his forearm, the plugged ends blinking a faint blue to show the oxygen units were fully operational. Several blueish-white crawlers slid and glided over one another, clear secretions smeared against the glass. Red held it out for Shekaj to take, but the bald man just leaned in for a closer look.

“They’re the real deal,” he marveled, tapping a finger lightly, causing them to flip and flop and murmur. “Tell me Dameron, how did you ever get so many and past the Vereen Checkpoints in this heap of junk you call a ship?”

Sure Poe could explain, but he wasn’t going to give him any tips or divulge secrets, instead settling on a touch of defiance. “I’m helluva pilot.”

Shekaj shook his head. “Don’t be that way. After everything I’ve done for you…”

Poe huffed. “Done?! Only reason you didn’t rat my whereabouts to the Republic was because you would have to disclose your little side ops all the way out here.”

“I suspected I wouldn’t get a warm welcome from you,” he said. “Heard what happened to your man on Druckenwell. Ambushed with a detonator at the Shipyards by some thug when Solo went to meet Naruu with the first half.” He patted Red on the shoulder. “Hope they at least had a drink at Happy’s Tavern before they died.”

“You bastard...” Poe hissed.

That biting comment resulted in a hard butt of Black’s weapon against the side of his skull and for a few seconds Poe saw stars and heard in his ears a mix of worms and droid and a ringing. BB-8 beeps something that sounds blunt and angry, but Shekaj doesn't speak Binary. Poe’s harsh glare when he righted himself was enough of a translation. His teeth set on edge and it took every single shred of self-control to fight the impulse to launch from the chair and snap anything on the Socorran he could before he was riddled by bolts from the other end of those blasters.

_Not your moment,_ he reminded himself. _Not yet…_

Didn’t help that Shekaj’s arrogant grin grew. “Leave him be. Check his ship records and save him the beating for now. I owe him that much. I know you want to kill me, Dameron, but I really did do you a favor. Naruu was my business associate too, a good one with connections, but you don’t see me falling to pieces over her. She lacked vision. Your man while I’m sure pleasing for you was just an incidental. **You** on the other hand have potential to make us both a great deal of money.”

_Wait… Just wait…_

“Let’s just get to the point of this conversation,” Poe demanded as he glowered at the bald man, wiping the back of his hand against the small trickle of blood he sensed at his temple. “We’re not in a Republic sector, so you’re not out here on their behalf, which means you want me because I figured out who can get me the worms and how to get them out. You want me to steal for someone else. Who?”

“Hutts want them for the poison and will pay more than Naruu’s needy silk traders,” he revealed easily. “Your new to the game Dameron. Lesson one is simple: Always go with the one who will pay you more.”

“I care about helping people Shekaj.”

“You're quite the honest smuggler, Dameron, and a great pilot. Me, on the other hand, I get rid of Naruu. I take little from The Hutts. I take a little from the Republic. All idiots and in the end I still get paid. Together we can make a very good living. I’m giving you one last chance. Come with me and I can put a word in for you with the Hutts.”

“Shekaj, he wiped the navicomp!” Black reported. The look on their boss’ face was not pleased.

BB-8 beeped proudly. Poe shrugged. “Yeah well you never know when some bastard with his crew of scumbags will board your ship to steal from you.”

“Grab the droid,” Shekaj ordered Black. “It’s banks might have something.”

Every compartment and tool opened and blazed from the droid, its arc welder and welding torch threatening to shock and burn Black if he moved any closer.

Poe translated. “He says, _No_.” He leaned back in his seat. “I've spent most of my life serving others and watching people suffer from it. You’re not getting anything out of either of us Shekaj, so take your offer and shove it.”

“Have it your way,” Shekaj snapped, snatching the worms from Red and turning his back to leave. “Kill him.”

There is a bang that fills the confines of the shuttle, loud and rough, but not a zing nor the smell of burning followed, only the collapsed and unconscious Black after his body impacted fast and hard against the hull on the far side and then down to the floor by an invisible force. The surprise rattled the Socorran whose eyes moved from it to the still living pilot to Red and his outstretched hand. Shekaj attempted to pull his weapon at his side with his free hand, but suddenly he froze in place like a statue.

“I… I-I can’t move!”

Poe stood up and yanked Shekaj’s blaster from its holster, meeting his confused and frightened eyes before he turned to Red. “You didn't have to wait until the ‘Kill him’ line you know.” BB-8 voiced the same.

“Don't tell me you were nervous?” mocked the garbled voice inside the Ubese helmet. “I tampered with their blasters before we intercepted you.”

“Always thinking of me.” Poe reached up to remove and drop the helmet, revealing the face beneath: pale skin dotted with freckles and moles, a long nose and brown eyes, all framed by the dark waves that were all uniquely and beautifully his Ben. The touch of relief Poe had to hide when his disguised partner greeted him was nothing compared to actually seeing those eyes looking back at him. The soft gazes were all they had time to share. They couldn’t forget their visitor.

“Shekaj!” Poe said with more zeal. “You remember my associate Ben Solo don't you?”  
  
“You’re not dead…” Shekaj said in disbelief.

“No and neither is Naruu,” Ben confirmed, staring down the trembling man. “She’s alive and safe, but angry. I know the feeling.”

Shekaj’s panic grew, his muscles flexing under his skin but not budging an inch. “What magic is this?”

Poe looked up at Ben. “Don’t think he’s ever met a Force sensitive before.”

“Force?” Shekaj repeated in disbelief despite his current predicament. “Like Jedi? Sith?”

“Neither in my case,” answered Ben flatly. “Just an _incidental_ , remember?”

Shekaj’s face went pale, instantly regretting his earlier choice of words.

“Naruu suspected someone was double crossing her to the Hutts,” began Poe. “I told her if she hired us to get her something rare, we can draw them out. Ben would protect her and deal with any one of your morons you sent her way. I would finish the job and get her proof. BB-8?”

The holoemitter below BB-8’s eye came to life and projected before them was the not-so-long ago smug and proud fat man boasting, " _I get rid of Naruu. I take little from The Hutts. I take a little from the Republic. All idiots and in the end I still get paid_.”

Poe tapped BB-8 and the image flickers away. Shekaj said nothing, but when Poe goes to pluck the vial of worms from his frozen hand, his eyes practically popped out of his skull. “W-w-what are you doing?”

“You might want to sit down for this next part,” Poe suggested with a grin. “Ben?”

Without a touch – one that could be seen anyway - the bald man was forcibly pushed back into the navigator chair behind him. Ben released his hold but his own fear paralyzed him into place as the duo crowded, Poe deactivating one of the plugs, a hiss of air escaping. “Dameron, wait--!”

“You pissed me off something awful when you tried to hurt Ben. Tell me Shekaj, if I was like one of your bosses, what do you think I would do to you for trying to destroy something that is mine?”

When Poe pulled the plug and the worms flipped and flopped more eagerly, the message was received loud and clear. Ben and Poe just glanced at each other, listening to Shekaj rant on-and-on that he never saw-never said anything to The Republic about their whereabouts and still wouldn’t, he’ll leave Naruu alone, try to seduce them over items in his cargo, _oh Maker something is dripping out over the side take them away please I’m sorry I’m sorry_! Of course they weren’t going to torture him with the worms. Even if he deserved the pain after what he had done to them, they merely wanted to make Shekaj sweat. And he was. Profusely.

Poe shook his head and resealed the lid. “Shut up and calm down. You’re lucky I’m not your bosses. Ben’s my partner and we’re not here to kill you, much as we may want. Naruu wants an insider with The Hutts, so you’ll still be working for her.”

“What?”

“If you were willing to betray Naruu for the Hutts, you could also betray the Hutts for Naruu,” Ben stated simply. “But this doesn’t mean business between us is concluded.”

Shekaj’s eyes danced rapidly between them confused. “Then what do you want?”

“Now that Naruu owes us a favor, she’ll make sure if you even breathe our names to anyone you’ll be made extremely sorry in other ways,” Ben began. “Then again I would be happy to help.”

BB-8 rolled up and opened its chassis to reveal a small data pad, which Poe accepted and cycles through. “As for us, I can certainly ruin your little contract with the Republic. I still have some friends there. However, we are amicable to leaving you alone for one little thing: Your ship.”

“My ship?!” exclaimed Shekaj. “Do you know how much that ship has cost me?! Over a 100,000 credits!”

“And we thank you for the ‘I tried to kill you’ discount,” the pilot said, holding out the pad. “All you have to do is put your biosig at the bottom of this doc I already had drawn up, stating you junked and deregistered your ship at Bee-Bee’s Impound Emporium, one of Naruu’s start-up covers that will unfortunately go under and out-of-business come the end of this transaction.”

BB-8 beeped excitedly.

“A droid?” The realization dawning on the man’s face is priceless. “You knew I would do this. You knew I would do this and you took the job anyway for a chance at my ship?”

“Keeps our name off the books and since Naruu won’t actually be paying us now, our names are off her books. It’s like we were never here. But in case you are feeling a bit ballsy yourself and think you can do something like file a claim that your ship was stolen or have the Hutts send someone to kill us, well… We’re sending copies of your little performance to some of our associates.”

“Who?” cried Shekaj.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Poe huffed.

“And how am I supposed to get out of here in this wreck?”

“Use a little ingenuity,” Poe suggested. “We’re not going to figure out everything for you.”

With a defeated sigh Shekaj took at the pad and completed the transaction. “I stand corrected. You're an arrogant upstart smuggler Dameron. I think I respect you after all.”

“Oh I am an honest smuggler Shekaj,” he said, accepting the pad. “And trust me when I say that I don't like you at all. Ben?”

With a wave of Ben’s hand Shekaj was violently flung up into the ceiling and landing sprawled back in the seat. Even Poe flinched from the dent his head made in the hull. “Ouch...”

“If it doesn’t hurt more than what they did to you, they won’t learn,” Ben explained.

“Uh-huh…,” Poe voiced, mouth slacked. Occasionally Poe did find the things that came out of Ben’s mouth a little frightening...

“Saying we were sending a copy was a nice touch,” Ben praised, interrupting any further musing. “Maybe we should actually _find_ a friend just in case.”

“Shekaj’s own nerves will keep him from trying anything,” Poe assured. “Besides when he finally does wake up he’ll be so busy trying to chase down all his cargo I plan on dropping after we leave that we’ll have disappeared before he ever finds us again.”

Poe returned the vial to the case. “Thanks little guys. We’ll get you to your new home in no time.”

“Our first destination?” Ben inquired.

Poe didn’t need the Force to yank his partner to their new ship with BB-8 rolling around the sleeping worms after his Masters.

 

******

 

Poe, Ben and BB-8 were all business after the encounter with Shekaj and his crew, and were more than ready to leave the unconscious scum behind in their old shuttle. Clamping down on any and all feelings bubbling up inside him, Poe issued orders to everyone and himself in rapid fire as he went down his mental checklist: bring our stuff; close this; plug into that; power and key the navicomp; prep for disengagement. He sounded very much like the commander of the ship already. However, never was it said that Ben was no more than a ship hand. He was Poe’s partner in every way and gave as many commands as he took, his short time infiltrating Shekaj’s crew already giving him knowledge of what’s where, and he knew exactly what was in those cargo holds, where was his share of the worms and, more importantly, where the releases were to dump the rest of the holds’ contents into the blackness of space. Finally when Ben was stripped of that mishmash of armor down to black fatigues beneath and the navigation computer returned a safe plotted course to their destination, the two men all but leaped into their seats in the cockpit and engaged the separation sequence of _Shekaj’s-now-their freighter_ from _their-now-Shekaj’s_ shuttle. With a final word of farewell to the shuttle that had served them well, Poe positioned the ship away and with a few flips of a switch and a rise of a control, the stars slowly pulled back and then they punched into hyperspace. The smile that had already been cracking Poe’s face couldn’t possibly get any bigger, but it certainly felt like it did the moment that swirling sea of blue light outside appeared. Autopilot could be a wonderful thing when one was about to lose all control of oneself.

“ **WOOHOOO!!!! YES!!!!** ” He roared and hollered and flung himself from his seat, grabbing the side of Ben’s face and crashing their mouths together into a kiss so enthusiastic that when Poe did pull back Ben continued following those lips and almost fell out of the chair.

“Poe…,” his voice cracked weakly before clearing it into something less affected. “Poe, I know you’re happy—“

“Happy?” he repeated with wide eyes, glancing around the cockpit. **Their** cockpit! **Their** controls! **Their** viewport! **Their** comms! BB-8 corner where he twittered and whooped at his behavior. His pilot chair! Ben’s chair! Ben actually in the chair! “Happy doesn’t even describe what I feel right now! We have a ship! Our ship!”

Then his eyes fell on Ben, truly looking at him. By his side once more. A chair no longer empty. A moment no longer marred by business and danger. The pilot did not consider himself a poetic man, but he thought his lover’s skin pale as stars and hair and clothes dark as the space between them. Everything about him was long: the waves that fell around his face, his arms, his legs, his torso… And onto those bent long legs that formed his lap Poe settled, pressing against that torso, welcoming those embracing arms and putting hands into those waves to pull him into another kiss of glee and delight.

“Oh how I missed this,” he said against those lips. He let the touch of his stubble brush against the smoothness of that cheek, knowing Ben always enjoyed the sensation by the way he would make the slight moan of content. “I really, really have.”

Ben pulled his head back as much as the minute space between them would allow. “Are you talking about me or piloting a new ship?”

“You of course!” Poe insisted strongly, but failing to keep his smile tame. “And the ship thing too. Just a little.”

“I figured.” Ben rolled his eyes, but all in good fun. Then his hand goes up to gently stroke over where Poe had been hit. “Seriously, how is your head?”

The slight sting when those fingers brushed over the bump covered by his hair made him flinch, but the warmth of his touch was still pleasant. “Fine. Truly. But let’s not do something like that again: being separate from each other. Things worked out the way we planned and Naruu’s alive, yet I don’t want to help people or ourselves at the expense of losing you. I worried about you constantly while you were gone. Don’t have the Force to fall back on to sense things are all right.”

BB-8 rolled up beside them and noised a similar sentiment.

“It’s doesn’t exactly replace seeing you in one piece or hearing your voice,” Ben commented, rubbing a hand over Poe’s jacket. “Still I agree with you: No more separation on a job.”

“Jobs we can accomplish in and with our ship,” the pilot repeated for the umpteenth time. “ **Our ship! WOOO!** ”

Ben squinted from the high pitch and laughed, patting his hands in the air. “Okay, okay, okay! Calm down there, Fly Boy!”

“No way!” Poe pushed off him, slamming a hand on the hull around the cockpit entry way and moving out into halls of the ship. Their hull! Their hallways! Into their living quarters!

Ben and the astromech chased after him. “Not that I give a damn about Shekaj, but we're not exactly swimming in clients.”

“No, but we're up a ship!” he beamed unable to stop himself from repeating it. “Now we can go back to working more acceptable jobs, far as acceptable freelance bounty and smuggling work goes anyway.” He collapsed into their booth. “Just look at her Ben!”

“Oh I’m looking,” Ben muttered, moping at the state of the room. Shekaj had shown about as much appreciation in the interior as he did the way he had piloted. There were stains and holes in the leather were Poe sat. The tables and parts of the raised floor had a strange sticky film from messy foods and spilt supplies and things they couldn’t guess. Wires hung haphazardly from consoles as if the previous group worked on bypassing components instead of repairing them and there were strange smells wafting from the galley and from systems in neglect, but nothing that suggested they were immediate danger of malfunction or suffocating from noxious fumes.

Okay, so **their** ship would involve a lot of cleaning and maintenance, but it was all certainly fixable. He knew Ben didn’t share the same enthusiasm for ships as he did, but surely he could make him see the potential of their new acquirement. “Think of all the places we can go, Ben. You and me! The people we will meet. The people we can avoid in this. We got to find a port or something where I can service her. A good one. And we have to give her a name! All the best ships need names.”

“How about the _Millennium Falcon II_?” Ben spatted, inspecting where one of the exposed wires was going. “Seriously Poe. You _had_ to fall in love with a Corellian freighter? Between this and what we’re doing, I’ve become my father.”

“Hey, _I’m_ the one flying this thing,” the pilot insisted like there was zero room for debate.

Ben grimaced. “You do realize the only thing you accomplished in that little quip of yours is comparing yourself to my Father. Not a psychological torture I need about the man I’m _sleeping with_.”

Poe chuckled. “Hey, you started it. Now would you stop poking and prodding and come here and sit with me on this crummy leather seat and join me in my fascinating imagination instead of your own?”

The astromech interjected with a question.

Ben glared at the droid hard as he went to sit beside Poe, pushing him back with his foot. “ _No this arrangement does not mean I’m Chewbacca!_ ”

“Like I need to imagine you being any taller than you already are,” Poe griped, pushing the thought of Ben at the height of a Wookie out of his head to look at the one animate object in the room shorter than himself and waving it over to bend down to its level. “All right, BB-8!” What do you say now that we’re out here? Permission for us two misfits to crew your ship?”

_**Does Master Poe and The Companion promise to never fly it recklessly or anywhere that will lead us into troublesome adventures?** _

“Absolutely not,” Poe scoffed.

_**Then**_ ** _I should go and apologize to the main computer in advance_** , bleeped and blooped the droid as he rolled away.

Ben sighed, sliding down to rest his head on Poe’s shoulder. “Still say it's a piece of junk. You don't really believe Shekaj that it's worth over a 100,000 credits?”

“No but I'm sure it's retrograded with plenty of enhanced albeit smuggled parts and weaponry to help us avoid any entanglements, and I have great plans to modify it up to my standards. We can make one of the cargo holds a training room for you if you like? You’ll be able to exercise and meditate and all that amazing Force stuff you do. Or we can leave that alone and go more relaxed by converting one of the cabins into a holo room to lounge around and watch all your favorite films. Or anything else you want! Just tell me and I’ll make it happen. What do you think?”

The sudden quiet was not the answer Poe expected nor the way Ben hung his head low and his hair shadowed his face.

“Hey…” Poe raised his chin to look at him. “What is it? Are you not happy? Tell me. If you don’t want to be here, we can sell it off and--”

“It’s not that,” he assured. “I just wonder how…”

The pause is great and Poe sees Ben’s struggling to put voice to his thoughts. “Ben? You can tell me.”

“You’re so…,” he paused again. Then it blurted out harshly: “You’re so Poe Dameron!”

Poe doesn’t know what to make of that statement and straightens up. Long fingers immediately grabbed his wrist to keep him from pulling away. “I didn’t mean that to come out the way it sounded. It’s just… Every day I wonder if today is the day you come to some realization that this isn’t who _Poe Dameron_ is? But you look free. You still help people because that is who you are. You say you are happy and I see it. Genuinely see it. I believe it. I just don’t understand how you can?”

His voice got lower. “You never doubt. About this life. About me. That I might slip back into what I was. That dark is always going to be there in me, Poe. Yet after everything I have done, I get someone like you.”

“I’m no saint either,” Poe commented. “You don't think I didn’t want to kill Shekaj for trying to hurt you?”

“I felt your anger,” he said, clutching at his hand, rubbing a thumb over the bumps of knuckles. “Your hurt. But why should I deserve your devotion? We were fortunate Shekaj is a greedy bastard. The next one might be more invested with bringing us in or… Worse. Are you really sure about this life? This life with me?”

This was about validation and so much more. “Funny... I asked BB-8 practically the same question before Shekaj boarded us. He said, ‘I go where Master Poe goes.’ BB-8 can only speak for BB-8 and I can only speak for me. Well, wherever you go, I go. And we deal with whatever comes together. If you can feel my hurt, then you know it is because I am not complete without you. And if you can feel my hurt, then you also can feel my love. I love every part of you. The Light. The Dark. Today is just another beginning for us. The first of many stories. Understand?”

The worry on Ben’s face slowly faded and he nodded. He believed it. Poe knew he would always need the reminder that someone wanted him for him. Poe was more than happy to do that for him because he truly did want to be by Ben’s side forever.

The pilot playfully nudged his companion, wanting to lighten the mood. “Hey, I liked the ‘Sweetheart.’ You’re getting better at the pet name thing, Babe.”

It was so easy for Poe to make the usually serious Ben blush and he tightened his hold to keep Ben from trying to sneak away like he does when he’s embarrassed. “I feel too silly saying it without the filter of the helmet to make it sounds less… cute.”

“So you’re telling me that was an acting choice back there? _Oh how romantic_!” mocked the pilot. “You know, you don’t have to call me anything but Poe. It’s certainly better than when you tried out ‘P-wing’.”

“No, I’ll figure out something,” insisted Ben over the challenge Poe never actually issued. “More endearing than just Poe, less fluffy than…” He paused and averted his eyes as his voice lowered to mutter, “Sweetheart.”

Ben was still a shade of red, and it’s so endearing that Poe slipped an arm around his waist, pulling him in closer. “I love you, you silly perfectionist.”

A warm hand covers over the one Poe rests on Ben’s hip. “So all the money we make is going into this?”

“Well it is our nest egg,” Poe answered. “Until we find something on land far from anyone looking for us anyway. And I want to make our home very nice for us.”

Ben looked around the room and suddenly laughed. “Oh Maker, _**that’s it**_.”

“That’s it what?” he repeats confused.

“You said all ships need a name, right?” Ben looked back at him in mirth. “We’ll call it Home… No, _Home One_ , because it's where you are and the only one I need.”

Poe snorted. “Wow… That’s so sappy of _you_!”

“I know!” Ben laughed harder. “I’m disgusted with myself! I’m hanging around you too much, Poe.”

“Home One, huh?” Poe repeated. “I like it. I really like it. It’s perfect. _Home One_.” He smiled softly, liking the way it sounded on his tongue.

“So, where should we start first?”

“Hmmm…” Thought Poe, leaning over to press a soft peck against a temple. He squeezed Ben’s hip, using it to glide him even closer. “I know this place needs a lot of work, but it's not going anywhere and we still have our blankets from the shuttle...”

His lover nuzzled back. “Are you suggesting we inspect one of the cabins?”

“Well my hands aren’t needed on the controls for a while,” Poe stated, snaking a hand under that black top, using his fingers to trace a line up the sinewy frame beneath. “Until then I think they should be on you.”

“You _are_ an arrogant upstart,” Ben repeated of Shekaj’s earlier words with a smirk. “What happened to ‘whatever I want’? Maybe what I want is my own room.”

“Are you sure?” he whispered low and husky beside his ear, before nipping it to make him shudder, then drawing back to see the shade of pink he always knows will appear from the act.

His eyes are dark and warm and full of mischief and love. “Convince me otherwise.”

“Gladly,” he accepts.

How wonderful it was to laugh again.

How wonderful it was to hold again.

How wonderful it was to love again.

Just another beginning with Ben. It’s all Poe ever truly wanted.


End file.
